Y2K
by HappyChaos3D
Summary: The new millennium is fast approaching and while Sam goes off to party with his friends against John's will, John and Dean go hunting. But tension and anger leads to distraction with disasterous results.  Just some Dean!whump to bring in the New Year.
1. Chapter 1

Happy New Year everyone!

This installment of Dean!whump is inspired by an entry in "John Winchester's Journal" by Alex Irvine. _"January 1: Y2K didn't end the world. New Year's Eve almost did Dean in, though. He's upstairs, immobile. I don't feel good myself."_ OK, so John probably implied that they both got wasted but the Dean!whump addict in me chose to interpret it differently. This has nothing else to do with the "Journal", and the creature is totally made up by me but it'll be obvious I think where inspiration for that came from. Updates for "Snowblind" and "Fall On Your Knees" are on the way and this three shot will be updated shortly, I know I might be in over my head with WIP's but I just really wanted to post this on New Year's. Don't worry, it's all written in my head. "Little Boy Lost" should also be updated soon too. Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed my stuff. My New Year's Resolution is to conclude my WIP's no matter what my ADD afflicted muse says.

Disclaimer: I don't own "Supernatural" because even though I was a very good girl last year all those letters I sent to Santa asking for Sam and Dean for Christmas went unanswered because _apparently _Santa's not real. Who knew?

Enjoy!

* * *

"Dad."

John turned his head to glance briefly at his eldest. Dean's eyes were wide and sincere as he looked at him and John quickly gritted his teeth and looked away, focusing his attention on the alley below, lifting a pair of binoculars to his eyes.

"Dean, pay attention."

Nodding Dean took watch once again from their place on the fire escape of the old downtown building, keeping watch on the rooftops above them. "Yes sir. Just…"

"What?" John demanded tersely.

"Just don't let Sam get to you."

"What makes you think that I'm bothered by his unwillingness to participate in this hunt?"

"I can hear your teeth grinding even over the crowd. I know it pissed you off that he didn't want to come tonight, but… cut him some slack. It's the millennium; can you blame him for wanting to spend it with his friends instead of in this dark alley looking for Batboy?"

"I didn't realize you're taking his side on this."

"I'm not. I'm not going to take sides. Dad you told me always to keep my head in the game and Sam's got you so pissed that…" Dean took a deep breath, knowing it would be a big risk to continue, "I can tell you're distracted."

"You're walking on thin ice, son," John warned, a little ticked because Dean was right, his eyes might've been watching the alley, but his mind was back at their latest temporary home, replaying the fight he and Sam had. But he wasn't going to admit that.

Dean spared him a sharp glance before looking back at the rooftops for their prey and John scanned below. What Dean nicknamed 'Batboy' because of the recurring tabloid urban legend, was a humanoid creature with bat-like features. Indeed, "_World Weekly News_" had a contest for whoever could provide a photo of the famous 'Batboy', all grown up but luckily no one really believed in its existence except for hunters and the few people who saw it and lived to tell about it. It was freaky and demonic looking, dark furry human-like body with bat wings on its back, large bat-like ears and a vaguely human face with long sharp fangs protruding from its mouth.

It was a moderately challenging hunt but a relatively simple kill. Just about anything that could kill a person could kill it. The problem was that it was also an incredibly stealthy creature that could fly and it was also quite fast with razor sharp claws. It was paramount to watch all angles because it could easily turn the tables between hunter and prey and the hunter could easily become the hunted.

"He should be here watching our backs," John added after a few moments of relative silence, "That's far more important than huddling out in the cold singing _'Auld Lang Syne' _just because the clock struck twelve."

Dean sighed, his lips quirking into a small, almost imperceptible grin as John inadvertently proved Dean's point. "Yeah, but it's important to Sam to hang out with his friends. And besides, the clock going from 1999 to 2000 is a pretty big deal, don't you think?"

"Only if you're one of those idiots who seem to think Y2K is the end of the world," John grunted with a huff, leaning forward when movement near a manhole further down the alley caught his attention.

Dean snorted, finding the whole Y2K hysteria hilarious, but then sobered when he sensed a change of tension in his father, "Dad? You see something?"

"Maybe," John whispered, putting the binoculars to his eyes again to get a better look. A beat later he growled, shaking his head, "It's nothing. Just some homeless guy digging through the trash," he said when the movement revealed just that.

Dean sighed, "I don't think that we're going to get this thing tonight anyway. It's New Year's Eve. I think the crowd scared it off."

"Maybe," John muttered, "but it might see the crowd as an all you can eat buffet."

"Yeah but all evidence seems to point that Batboy's a reclusive creature and don't you think it's odd that it'd end up in a city in the first place? I thought they preferred quiet rural areas."

"Yes, generally they do," John conceded, "this one does stray from the pattern but there are different factors that could've driven this one to the heart of the city."

"Such as?"

"Does it matter?"

"Kind of. I mean, what if it isn't Batboy we're looking for?"

"The descriptions in the eyewitness reports are uncanny," John retorted, irritation obvious in his voice, "Plus everything else about it fits the M.O."

"I guess," Dean sighed as he continued to scan the rooftops and John watched below.

"You really are asking for it tonight, aren't you?" John asked, his tone with a hint of warning. Dean bit his lip, knowing he was crossing a line by questioning his father. Add that to the fact he had just stood up for his little brother while the two of them were having another one of their many quarrels and Dean knew that he was almost at strike three.

"Sorry sir," Dean said honestly, "just seems odd."

"Well what do you think it could be if it isn't Batboy?" John demanded, scanning the dark, empty alley.

"Don't know sir," Dean replied.

"Then until you come up with something useful to argue your point, keep your mouth shut and don't second guess me," John stated, "certainly not in the middle of a damn stakeout."

"I wasn't trying to…"

"Dean."

"Right. Sorry sir."

They continued their watch in silence. A few blocks away they could hear the crowd in the heart of downtown laughing and cheering as the clock edged nearer to midnight. It was a mild winter's night and they could hear pop music playing loudly in the background and Dean subconsciously bobbed his head to the beat even though he wasn't familiar with or even a fan of the style. The steady rhythm served to clear his head enough to concentrate on the task at hand and a growing sense of uneasiness seeped through him.

His instincts were telling him that they missed something, that something was off about this hunt but he couldn't put his finger on it. Since John was clearly still pissed about Sam ditching the hunt for his friends and closed off to anything Dean had to say, he wasn't sure how to bring it up without making it worse. Not unless Dean had a good reason to doubt that they were hunting Batboy.

But truth be told, Dean didn't really doubt it at all, but he just had a bad feeling. The feeling had settled deep in his gut and was really nagging at him to figure out why.

"Dad?"

"What?"

Dean flinched at John's sharp tone but he held his ground, "Are we missing something?"

"Yeah, Sam."

"That's not what I meant, Dad," Dean hissed with a frown.

"Don't use that tone with me, Dean!"

"Right, sorry," Dean amended, but there was some sarcasm in there that he just couldn't hide. "But what if we're missing something? I just can't help but feel like there's something we might've forgotten or overlooked!"

"Look, we've all done our research and all came to the same conclusion…"

"Sam didn't."

"Sam's not here," John snapped.

Dean bit his lip and frowned as he continued to scan the rooftops wondering why he was pushing this, knowing it was only making John angrier. They needed their head in the game and with John so pissed at Sam, and Dean pushing his father's buttons they way he was, neither of them were really focused on the hunt.

"Besides, he did eventually come to agree with us," John added.

_Only because he couldn't think of anything else,_ Dean thought, but chose not to say out loud. Maybe that was why he was doubting things, because Sam did too at first. But almost everything they had found pointed to the same thing. Batboy, stalking the city in this part of town, around this alley.

"I know," Dean sighed.

John spared Dean a wry glance, "Believe it or not, I know what I'm doing. I've done this whole hunting thing before."

There was a silent apology amidst the sarcasm in his father's voice and Dean chuckled, accepting the olive branch, "Touché." Now wasn't the time to argue about Sam or anything for that matter. Right now they needed to focus.

He went back to keeping watch above them, still feeling on edge. Maybe it was the distracting noise from the crowd just a few blocks away. The danger they had no idea they could be in if they wandered away from the safety of their large numbers, the danger they were in of being caught with guns on some fire escape in some alley, looking ready to randomly shoot someone. Maybe it was the fight John and Sam had earlier, the way Sam defied their father and just stormed off to party with his friends. A third set of eyes would've been nice and the three of them getting along would've been even better.

He could feel his father tense beside him, "Shit," John hissed.

"What?" Dean asked, following his line of sight, darting his eyes up briefly when something caught his eye but there was nothing there. He scanned the darkness where John was focused.

"It got the homeless guy!"

Dean spotted the lump on the ground that was once the homeless man. He was obviously dead, blood pooling under him, his torso slashed.

"Damn it!" John hissed, "How the hell did it…?" he turned accusingly to Dean, "You let this happen! Don't you _dare_ second guess me again, you hear me? If you hadn't…we coulda got this thing before…damn it, just wait here!"

"Dad!"

John brushed him off and ran down the fire escape, jumping the final distance when he reached the bottom, Dean swallowed the lump of guilt that built in his throat and watched John race towards the homeless guy's body, weapon in hand, angrily searching for the creature.

"Come on fucker, show yourself!" John growled.

The crowd grew louder and Dean tensed, realizing that it was almost midnight. He ignored the noise and focused on his father. He had screwed up, but he was going to make up for it by having his father's back. He always had his father's back.

John frantically scanned the alley from where he was on the ground, obviously furious for letting the creature kill right in front of them and not even noticing. Batboy was known for stealth, so distracted or not they could've still missed it, but for a hunter it was always a harsh blow when someone got killed on their watch.

A dark shape emerged from behind a dumpster, behind John.

"Dad!" Dean shouted in warning, but the growing noise and fervour of the crowd drowned him out and John's reaction was a fraction too slow as the creature attacked. Bat-like wings flapping, it emerged from the shadows and knocked John to the ground, knocking the gun from his hand as he crashed into a dumpster before falling still. The creature raised its claws to strike a fatal blow but with two shots from Dean, it was down before it knew what hit it.

Dean breathed deeply. Batboy was dead. Another hunt finished, another year over. "Dad? You OK?" he shouted, sighing in relief when John staggered to his feet, seemingly all right but obviously pissed.

"I'm good," he could hear John yell in reply as he looked around in the darkness for his gun, rubbing his elbow which took the brunt of his fall.

John growled in frustration when it was no where to be found, his head hurt from where he banged it when he landed, his elbow hurt and the noise from the crowd was pissing him off. His whole arm was shaking, his fingers tingling but he knew the injury wasn't too bad, just bruised but it was his funny bone so it hurt like hell. He looked at the creature, the grotesque, human-like features drawing his head back in mild surprise.

"Huh," he grunted, realizing it was a female from the slightly effeminate facial features, her wings crumpled to the side, her belly swollen... "I'll be damned." She had been pregnant. Maybe that was why she broke the pattern, coming to the city where there were more people for the picking. She was eating for two. That also explained why there were more victims than usual, which was one of the other factors that had Sam originally doubt that it was Batboy…or in this case, Batgirl.

He looked up towards Dean to give him a wave of thanks for saving his ass as the crowd in the background starting whooping and cheering as midnight drew nearer. But a dark shadow gliding up above caught his attention. _Shit!_ _That must be the daddy._

Forgetting all about stealth and screeching suddenly with rage, a second creature swooped from its perch above them, heading straight for the person who killed its mate: Dean.

In the background, the countdown to the new millennium began.

_Ten!_

"Dean!" John called out, feeling impotent and helpless without his gun. In panic he desperately searched for it, his attention divided between finding his gun and reaching his boy.

_Nine!_

Dean looked up and hastily drew his weapon, cursing to himself because he let his guard down. Batboy swooped down at him, attacking as he fired.

_Eight! _

The creature gave an inhuman cry of pain as it took a swipe at Dean while John watched in horror.

_Seven!_

Dean hollered out in agony, Batboy's claws tearing through his jacket to cut deep into his flesh. The force threw him off balance and he rolled down the stairs…

_Six!_

…coming to an abrupt halt at the bottom of the fire escape, head and arms dangling limply over the edge. Blood dripped through the grill and splattered to the pavement, forming a small pool.

_Five!_

John looked frantically for his gun now, the faint streetlight at the end of the alley catching on the metal where it sat in a pile of trash. Meanwhile the creature leapt down the two flights in pursuit of Dean.

_Four!_

The creature reached Dean as he dazedly started to come to and with its monstrous clawed foot it kicked him, sending his body to fall over the edge just as John reached his gun.

_Three!_

"NO!" John screamed watching in horror as Dean fell seemingly headfirst the ten feet to the ground, the creature close behind.

_Two!_

John took aim at the creature looming furiously over Dean's prone form raising its claws to strike and fired even as he ran towards them. With a screech, the creature fell back, dead.

_One!_

Sliding to the ground next to Dean he grasped the collar of Dean's torn and bloody jacket, wanting to shake him awake but stopped when his brain screamed warnings of possible neck injuries so he cupped his palm to Dean's cheek with one hand and felt for a pulse with the other. It was rapid and weak, but there. However John didn't allow himself even a moment to feel relieved.

_Happy New Year!_

Dean's pale face glowed green, then blue, then red, white, then purple and green as fireworks lit up the sky, brightly announcing the New Year. His eyes fluttered, his brow furrowed in pain. John tore off his jacket and pressed it against Dean's bleeding chest, causing Dean's legs to jerk spastically, his body tensing in anguish.

A low moan escaped his throat and his eyes fluttered open, rolling back shakily as his body bucked, muscles strained, his back arching in agony, the moan turning into a strangled cry. "Dean! Hey, hey look at me! Be still, be still," John ordered, leaned closer, seeking his gaze as he took his cheek into his palm again. Dazed green eyes reflected the bursts of fireworks as they wandered in search of his father. "Take it easy, son."

In the background John could hear the crowd singing "_Auld Lang Syne_" while Dean's faint, keening wails provided a morbid and heartbreaking accompaniment. Tears spilled from both their eyes as Dean's unfocused gaze rested on John's face briefly before his eyes rolled and fluttered, body tensing, as he cried out pitifully in pain before his body went slack.

"No, Dean," John gently slapped his cheek but elicited no response. "Stay with me, son, open your eyes!"

John pressed his cold fingers, smeared in Dean's blood against his firstborn's neck to check his pulse again.

"Dean! Wake up!"

Meanwhile the nearby crowd continued to sing and cheer, loudly bringing in the new millennium, their boisterous celebration drowning out John's desperate pleas.

* * *

A/N Don't worry Sam fans, he'll be featured more prominently from here on out.

Thanks for reading! Now please review!

Happy New Year!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed this fic! You overwhelm me with your lovely comments! This story has somewhat taken a life of its own and I'm not sure how I feel about it but instead of overthinking it and taking forever to update, as I tend to do I'm just going to go with it and see where it takes us. If it sucks I hope you'll tell me (so long as you're nice and constructive about it).

Anyway, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

Sam abruptly realized he was falling into a state of melancholy.

He was standing on the balcony of an upscale downtown highrise condo with a perfect view of the northern half of the city and an ideal seat for the New Year's fireworks, surrounded by his friends, anticipating the countdown with blissful terror. Hannah Walker had made him promise to find her before the clock struck twelve. She was going to kiss him tonight at midnight, maybe even more than that. He had been pining for her ever since he saw her when they moved to town a few months ago and it wasn't until just before Christmas that he learned she had a crush on him too.

The night was going to be perfect, so why was he suddenly pensive? One moment he was having the time of his life and the next he was lost in thought as he looked down on the rooftops below, subconsciously watching for a dark winged humanoid creature—Batboy as Dean called it. That was the last thing he should be thinking about. Tonight he should be focusing all his energy on the party, on his friends, on the new millennium, on Hannah Walker and her strawberry hair, adorable freckles and how in less than ten minutes he'll get to finally taste her perfect heart-shaped lips and touch her perfectly shaped breasts.

As much as his brother might like to think otherwise, Dean wasn't the only chick magnet in the family. Now that Sam's body finally caught up to his age and his acne had finally started to clear up, girls were starting to notice him now and it was nice. Very nice.

If he was to be thinking about anything on New Year's Eve it should be that, _not_ the hunt Dean and John were on, or the fight they had. Sam knew the moment he stormed off in the middle of the argument to go to this party he was a dead man walking so since it was probably going to be his last night as a free man until he's at least thirty-five, he should be enjoying it, not dwelling on the inevitable execution.

Sam snorted bitterly, hanging his head.

"Hey Sam, what's wrong?"

Jolting out of his reverie Sam spun around at the voice and stood up to his full height, trying to emulate the cool, cocky confidence Dean presented whenever faced with a pretty girl. That lasted all of two seconds before Sam ducked his head, suddenly feeling awkward and he blushed slightly and hoped that the cool winter air and dim lighting would conceal all traces of that blush, "Hi Hannah."

Hannah blushed too, shyly shifting her gaze so she was looking over the balcony; she moved past him and leaned on the railing, "Beautiful out here, isn't it?" She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as he mirrored her position, his hand brushing against hers, "You OK?"

"Yeah," Sam shrugged, "just thinking."

"About what?" Hannah asked, tilting her head so her ginger hair fell loosely off her shoulder and into her face. She tucked her hair behind her ear and Sam resisted the urge to kiss her right then and there, but they were going to save it for midnight.

"Aw nothing," Sam replied bashfully, "just…me and my dad got into a fight earlier."

"What about?"

Sam didn't answer her right away, instead he just frowned and looked straight ahead. He didn't want to lie to her and he hated that his whole life was a lie to almost everyone he knew. Very few people knew the real Sam Winchester, and he lied so much to keep the family business a secret that sometimes even he wasn't sure of who the real Sam Winchester really was. That had played a part in their fight almost as much as the hunt tonight did, but he couldn't tell her that.

He settled for a half truth, "He didn't want me to come tonight."

"Oh," she replied turning her head to face him, "Why not?"

"Family stuff."

Hannah nodded in understanding, though Sam knew that what she thought she understood and what was the truth were two entirely different things. To prove it she offered, "My mom thought I should be spending New Year's Eve with family too. My uncle is hosting some lame party in the suburbs and I know that if I went I'd probably spend the night babysitting my cousins."

Sam chuckled, pretending to empathize with her situation but the truth was she had no idea how lucky she had it.

"Plus she was worried that there'd be alcohol and that I might fall into the wrong crowd," she groused rolling her eyes, and then she laughed, "I assured her that there was going to be plenty of adult supervision and Drew's parents didn't allow alcohol in the house."

"I'll drink to that," Drew, one of Sam's buddies whose parents owned the condo they were partying in said as he handed Sam a cup of beer from the keg his older brother bought and took a long swig of his own beer. His parents were actually spending the holidays in the Dominican and had no idea their sons were hosting such a New Year's celebration.

Both Sam and Hannah laughed at that and Hannah took a drink of the one she had been nursing while Sam casually took a sip of his own beer and he couldn't help but think about the irony of it all. John didn't worry about that so much as the fact that it interfered with the hunt.

Drew pushed his way between them, set his beer down on the wide railing threw his arms around them and sighed obnoxiously, "So Sam, Hannah…New Year's resolutions?"

"To study harder and get better grades," Hannah replied.

Drew made a whining noise, "But Han, you're already freaky smart," he scoffed and Sam realized he was already a little sloshed, "you brainiacs are made for each other!" He squeezed their shoulders as he said it and Sam found himself blushing again at the thought of him and Hannah, together.

Hannah laughed, "Yeah but I've been slipping a bit, and I want to get into Yale and I'm not going to get in with the grades I'm getting."

Drew rolled his eyes, "What about you Sammy?"

"Sam," he corrected without thinking. Dean was the only one allowed to call him Sammy, and even then it was only because Dean wore him down by blatantly ignoring the 'don't call me Sammy' rule until he gave up correcting him all the time.

"C'mon, you got a New Year's resolution Sam_my_?"

Sam thought a moment and while he wanted to say something thoughtful, he wanted it to sound…normal, he didn't want to bring up the family drama from earlier but the fight was still on his mind and he said, "To not let Dad dictate my life." He shocked himself by saying it out loud, no one needed or wanted to hear about his issues with his family, and there was only so much he could possibly share anyway.

"Why do you say that?" Hannah asked sincerely.

And the next thing Sam knew, the pent up anger from his earlier fight with John, coupled by the bitterness and stress about the very essence of his life came to the surface and suddenly Sam needed to vent. He gave his friends an extremely censored version of what life was like as John Winchester's son. "He never asks about what I want, or what Dean wants, he just expects us to drop what we're doing and follow his orders. He didn't care one bit that I had plans tonight, he just went ahead and made plans for us and expected me to just ditch you guys because he said so."

"I know what you mean," Drew said solemnly, listening to his rant, "my old man can be a real asshole too, he wants Shawn and I to go to law school and join his firm. He doesn't give a shit about what we want either."

"Now see," Sam smirked, feeling like an idiot for losing it, "that's something I think I'd like to do, y'know?"

"You want to be a lawyer?" Drew scoffed incredulously.

Sam shrugged, "Maybe."

Drew looked at him like he grew a second head but then he grinned, "Then go for it. Who gives a shit about what your dad wants? Look at Shawn, he went and did his own thing and dad might not like it, but Shawn's happy, and they can still tolerate each other and I'm sure the same thing will happen when I graduate and I'm sure that when you're done high school and get into law school or whatever, the same thing will happen to you."

"You don't know my dad," Sam shook his head with a frown.

"Well, I think it's time you stand up to him," Drew shrugged.

"I'm here aren't I?" Sam smirked, "I ditched him in the middle of a fight."

Drew laughed obnoxiously, "See! Sam my man!" he gave him a pat on the back, "You're one step closer to being your own person!"

"And when I get home he'll probably kill me."

"Maybe if you talk to him," Hannah suggested, "explain how you feel?"

Sam laughed, "That'll go over well."

"I meant after he's had a chance to cool down," Hannah amended.

"Yeah but still, he doesn't exactly listen to reason. He was OK with me going tonight until he suddenly decided to make other plans for us," Sam shrugged.

"You shouldn't have to put up with that shit Sam," Drew said, "you're better than he is anyway. Stand up to the guy. If he doesn't like it than leave. I'm sure you could stay with us. We've got lots of room and my dad actually likes you, he probably smelled the wannabe lawyer in you and would probably go for it."

Sam looked at him sharply, "You serious?"

"Sure," Drew said, "I still don't quite get what your family business is but it doesn't really seem like anything worth aspiring to. And besides, I think your old man is worse than you let on."

"Why do you say that?"

Drew pointedly grabbed his arm and squeezed, aggravating a deep bruise Sam received when an angry spirit they hunted just before Christmas got him. It had mostly healed but too much pressure still hurt and caught off guard, Sam couldn't hide the wince. "That's why," Drew said, anger clearly etched on his face.

"My dad didn't do that."

"Right," Drew frowned, his voice dripping in sarcasm, "Sure. Just like he didn't give you the others ones I've seen you with in the few months I've known you. I've got your back dude, don't put up with his shit."

Sam shifted uncomfortably when the mood went up a notch in seriousness. He couldn't deny the assumption mostly because the truth was something he couldn't share and Drew knew him well enough by now to know he wasn't into contact sports which was usually his excuse. Embarrassed and desperate to change the subject he exclaimed, "Guys don't worry about it. It's OK. It's New Year's Eve. We've got…" he looked at his watch, "two minutes until the new millennium," he looked meaningfully at Hannah, "I say we forget about our dads for now and enjoy the party."

Hannah grinned and they both looked meaningfully at Drew who still stood between them. The atmosphere instantly relaxed and for that Sam was grateful.

"What?" Drew asked with feigned innocence.

"Drew, you've been a great friend, but get lost," Sam tilted his head towards Hannah.

"Hey the fireworks will be going off soon, I want a good view," Drew shrugged. He looked at Sam and Hannah again, "If you guys want to be alone, my parents' bedroom should be empty." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Hannah squealed in embarrassment, turning three shades of red while Sam bit his lip, shaking his head with laughter. Drew laughed and slid out from between them, "All right, all right, I think it's time for a refill anyway," he said, shaking his empty beer cup and left.

The two of them stood in silence, moving to one corner of the balcony as more people came to get a view of the fireworks. Hannah pretended to shiver and Sam wrapped his arms around her and held her as they waited for midnight to arrive. They remained silent as they stood and waited and Sam rocked her gently and realized that Drew gave him a lot to think about. He knew John would probably want to up and move them again very soon but Sam could make a life here. Here he actually had friends and he wasn't ready to leave, not now that he and Hannah were finally together, and he knew now that he'd have a place to stay.

The thought sent adrenaline to course through his veins and when the clock struck twelve and the sky lit up in greens, blues, purples and reds he took Hannah in his arms and kissed her. Her lip gloss tasted like strawberries. When their lips parted Sam heard his phone ring.

"Aren't you going to get that?" Hannah asked.

Sam looked at the display, "It's my dad."

Catching Hannah's concerned gaze Sam shook his head and grinned, kissing her again, letting the phone ring. When it stopped ringing he turned it off. Screw the consequences. He was in shit anyway why not just enjoy the rest of the night and deal with John tomorrow? Drew was right. He shouldn't let John control his life and Sam figured John only called to yell at him. Probably figured that now that he's had his New Year's it was time to help out with the hunt. Whatever. It was supposed to be an easy kill and besides, he already helped research and it wasn't like John listened to any of his input anyway.

Maybe he would take Drew up on his offer. It was definitely something to think about.

o-0-o

"Damn it!" John cursed, folding his phone shut before turning his attention back on his fallen son. The bleeding on Dean's chest seemed to have slowed down enough for John to free both hands to check for other injuries. Considering how hard he had fallen down the stairs and then off the fire escape head first…the mere thought that Dean might've broken his neck sent bile to John's throat and he swallowed hard.

He tried to call Sam once again but Sam had turned off his phone. In hindsight, John realized maybe he should've tried to call with Dean's phone since Sam was probably still too pissed off to want to answer, but John was too pissed off in return and too worried about Dean to care. "I'm gonna kill that boy when I see him," he muttered angrily. "Damn it Sam, if you were here, this wouldn't have happened!"

John turned back to Dean and placed his hand on Dean's forehead and he frowned at the cold, clammy feel of his pale skin. His hand moved to a bleeding gash just above and behind his ear and winced at the bump he felt there. As gently as he could he moved his hand back to Dean's neck, trying to feel the vertebrae without moving his head but couldn't tell if anything was broken or not. He checked his pulse again and his heart sank at how it felt way too rapid and weak, but he couldn't be surprised because of how much blood he had lost and was slowly losing still.

The fear of Dean breaking his neck was palpable and John debated calling 9-1-1 despite how risky it was. Not only was there the insurance fraud to consider, but how the hell would he explain the nature of Dean's injuries and the monstrous bodies lying nearby? Add to that the dead homeless man and their weapons and there was just too much incriminating evidence at the scene that could get them into serious trouble. But if Dean's injuries were as bad as he feared…from his vantage point Dean had fallen _head first_!

Careful to keep Dean still John forced himself to remain calm as he continued to check for injuries. He felt Dean's right shoulder and then his left, grunting in sympathy when the bones at the joint felt out of place. When he put pressure on the dislocated shoulder Dean groaned, his body tensing as his eyes shot open and he gave a pained hiss as he gasped for breath, disoriented and panicked.

"Easy son, take it easy," John soothed, though his voice somehow still managed to sound more like a drill sergeant than a concerned father. "Don't move," while John sounded harsher than he intended, his fear always managing to be disguised as anger, it had an effect and Dean did as he was told, his unfocused eyes resting vaguely on him.

"D-dad," Dean groaned, body shuddering with pain and cold and maybe even shock. He squeezed his eyes shut with a groan and blinked a few times in an attempt to clear cloudy vision, "Wha…wha' 'app'nd?"

"Batboy did a number on you," John explained, "Shoulder's dislocated, chest's shredded…I need to know where…where else does it hurt?"

Dean rolled his head to the side before John could stop him from moving and he whimpered in pain as he drew a harsh breath of air, "Better que-estion…wh-where doesn't…it h-h-hurt?"

Hope surged through John, if Dean was in pain, then maybe he didn't break his neck after all. He wasn't an expert on that sort of thing, but if Dean's spine was injured as John had feared, that would mean Dean would feel numb, wouldn't it? Dean wouldn't be able to move at all, right?

John felt down his arms noticing Dean's left wrist was swollen, but probably not broken, but when he gently checked Dean's ribs Dean's back arched and he cried out shakily with a curse. "Take it easy, it's OK," John soothed, mentally adding broken ribs to the tally of injuries.

"F-fuck," Dean gasped breathlessly. His face was tight with agony and his eyes rolled as his breath hitched and he shifted in an attempt to lessen the pain but that only sent waves of fire to spike through his body and he moaned, "Ahhh, s-son of a b-bitch that…h-hurts!"

"I know," John said softly, but loud enough to be heard over the crowd in the distance, still partying. "I know but try to relax kiddo."

Dean closed his eyes and made an honest effort to do what he was told, but he coughed suddenly, jarring every injury. "Shit," he wheezed, "shit, shit…"

"OK," John nodded, holding him still, "that settles it, I'm calling 9-1-1."

"No," Dean gasped, "m'fine. D-don't…" Tears spilled from his eyes as he tried to draw breath and his unfocused gaze wandered and he blinked in confusion, "Wh-where's Sammy?" Suddenly he began to panic, looking around, trying to push himself up.

"Dean!" John hissed, alarmed but not entirely surprised by Dean's confusion, "Dean, focus! Sam's fine. He wasn't with us tonight, he's fine, he's OK…"

But Dean didn't seem to be listening and he pushed himself up, weakly fighting his father's attempts to hold him down. When he lost his balance and tried to catch himself with his left hand he screamed in pain and lost consciousness again.

"Damn it, Dean," John sighed. In a rare act of affection John gently stroked Dean's hair, and swallowed back the sudden urge to weep. Overwhelming relief flooded through him because it seemed Dean's shoulder had taken the brunt of the fall and he no longer feared possible spinal injuries, and while he was obviously concussed he had been coherent enough to rule out major brain injury as well and the relief and worry battled within him because even if he didn't break his neck or crack his skull open, he was still in bad shape. The question was whether it was something John could handle or if Dean needed an ER. A hospital posed so many risks he wasn't prepared to deal with, but if Dean was bleeding internally, if he missed something vital…

John ran a hand down his face in indecision, inadvertently smearing Dean's blood down his face. He looked back at Dean, at his slack, ashen face and swallowed hard. He checked the wounds on Dean's chest and frowned when he saw they were still sluggishly seeping blood and his pulse was way too fast and John was certain that Dean was starting to go into shock. As it turned out, that was what made the decision for him.

"Sorry son," he murmured, "I know you hate them, but hospital it is."

While 9-1-1 was probably the best option for Dean, it was also out of the question now that John was confident that Dean's spine was intact. Carefully tucking Dean's injured arm into his jacket which also served to keep John's makeshift bandage in place, John pulled Dean's right arm around his shoulders and slid his arms under his back and knees and with a grunt climbed to his feet, shifting to adjust Dean's dead weight in his arms.

It was a few blocks to get to the Impala. Luckily the streets were relatively quiet since most were still partying at the downtown core and those who saw them assumed Dean was passed out drunk if they paid any attention to them at all. When they reached the Impala John cursed Sam's absence when he realized he couldn't open the doors with Dean in his arms.

Gently he set Dean down on the ground, leaning him up against the car. Dean roused slightly and asked John what happened and then asked about Sam. John frowned worriedly at the memory loss but he smiled and gave Dean a gentle squeeze on his uninjured shoulder.

"Batboy got you good son, but you'll be OK. And don't worry, Sam's fine, Sam didn't come with us, he's fine, he's safe," John assured him as he carefully moved him into the back seat. Dean relaxed at that until his body trembled and he shuddered, whimpering in pain before drifting off again.

Trying once more to contact Sam proved fruitless when unsurprisingly he found that Sam's phone was still turned off.

"Damn it Sam," John muttered angrily as he drove off towards the nearest ER, "I hope your stupid party is fucking worth it."

* * *

A/N Well, that's it for chapter two. I hope I didn't disappoint because truth be told, I'm kind of worried about this chapter. I really hope the Winchester's aren't OOC, especially Sam. I'm trying to portray him as a rebellious teenager facing a bit of an identity crisis and peer pressure as I imagine he would be like around that time and hope he doesn't come off as a jerk for not answering his phone. I say this because he's kind of different than he is in a lot of the fics I've read where he's that age. And don't worry about Hannah becoming a Mary Sue, she and Drew were a means to an end and I doubt we'll see her again. I say this because I know it's tricky writing an OC as a love interest. Some can pull it off quite brilliantly, others not so much and I fear I would fall into the second category seeing as though romance isn't my forte nor is it something I'm particularly fond of, especially in this fandom. So again, don't worry.

Anyway, thanks a bunch for reading, now please let me know what you think! I say this because my muse is hungry for feedback and she gets cranky when she's hungry.


End file.
